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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26383933">Long Live New York</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayonBroadway/pseuds/SomedayonBroadway'>SomedayonBroadway</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Captain jack - Freeform, Interrogation, Prisoner of War, Public Humiliation, Rebellion, Torture, Underground society, War, Whipping, shock collar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:55:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26383933</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayonBroadway/pseuds/SomedayonBroadway</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Terrorist. It's what they called him. It's what they called the rebellion. It was almost amusing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1435090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen, Bad Things Happen Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Long Live New York</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey everybody! It's been a while, but I'm still alive. I hope you're all staying safe and healthy!</p><p>So this story is a little bit intense, but it's not all that graphic. I'm gonna tag some triggers just in case—</p><p>TW: Dystopian world, mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, war, hostage situation, shock collars, whips</p><p>Again, it's not as scary as it sounds, but it does take place in a dystopian world during a war, so if you're easily triggered I'd advise looking away. If you're like me and you like a little bit of Whump, this is the place for you.</p><p>So this is for my Bad Things Happens Bingo Card on tumblr! </p><p>Trope: Public Humiliation</p><p>Please enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had never been a secret that the world was dark, twisted and cruel. Maybe somewhere deep down, Jack had known that this would happen. He supposed it wasn't the wildest outcome that he could've thought up. Maybe he'd just gotten cocky. Three years of fighting this war from the underground and he thought he'd never be caught, just become another name that history conveniently forgot to mention; another leader of the rebellion that never showed his face.</p><p>A whirlwind of memories hit him like bricks as he warned himself against sleeping. He didn't want to close his eyes. The blindfold was already frustrating enough. In the darkness, his subconscious was going wild. He didn't like the downtime or the quiet. There were too many things to think about.</p><p>
  <em>"Jack… Jack, I can't feel my leg… I can't feel my leg!" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Captain… it's Bryan Denton, sir… he didn't make it…" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Jackie… I don't wanna die…" </em>
</p><p>He could still hear the terror in those voices. The silent questions that they were waiting for him to answer. He had nothing to supply them with. He was never fit to be a leader, it was never something he wanted. He was fine working behind the scenes, doing little errands, making sure things continued on smoothly. He'd never meant to drag his family into this mess.</p><p>If he'd just done as he was told from the start, none of this would've happened. If he'd just accepted the world he lived in, maybe he'd be in his own bed right now. Maybe Charlie and Tyler would be with him, healthy as they had been when this had all started.</p><p>All he'd done was make one stupid mistake.</p><p><em>Art is not a crime</em>. Those were the words. The words that had nearly gotten him killed on the spot as he was being insubordinate towards the confining laws and the royals of what had once been a city that never slept.</p><p>He wished Medda had never given him those books. He wished he'd never laid eyes upon those beautiful drawings and photographs of what people used to call Manhattan. That was long ago, long before he was even born. Still, there was something inside of him, a spirit of sorts that just refused to be broken.</p><p>The clanging of keys pulled Jack out of his thoughts. He reminded himself not to move. He couldn't show fear. Not now.</p><p>The door to his cell creaked open.</p><p>"Are you ready to talk now, boy?"</p><p>Jack remained silent. It wasn't as though he could speak anyway, not with the gag in his mouth. He'd been forced to stand when he wasn't being tortured. It must've been at least three days by now. The most they'd given him were a few sips of water to keep him alive. He hadn't slept, he hadn't eaten and, Lord help him, he hadn't said a word. His hands were bound behind him to a post of some kind. His feet were tied similarly. A collar around his neck forced him to stay upright. He didn't flinch when a hand grabbed his chin. He just bit down on the cloth that was wrapped between his lips, defiantly trying to pull away.</p><p>A hand around his neck made his go stiff. He stopped fighting as the gag was pulled away, dangling around his neck. "Name?" Jack said nothing, letting the hand press into the collar he wore, not caring in the least. "Sector?" The young man scowled, clenching his jaw tight as it was grabbed again. "Station?"</p><p>Unable to stop himself, Jack spit on where he assumed his interrogator had to be standing. His jaw was squeezed tightly in the man's grip but the young man scowled through it. A threat is what they were calling him, a danger to society. Maybe he was. But he'd chosen his side and he'd be damned if he didn't have the backs of those who fought by his side day in and day out.</p><p>A harsh punch made its way across his cheek just as the crushing grips released him. He grunted in response but did not cry out, the screams of the people he loved most ringing in his head as he reminded himself once again to just keep his mouth shut.</p><p>"I'll give you one more chance. We know you're part of the rebel alliance. Tell us where you and your misguided friends are hiding and we'll spare your life." There was no sense of comfort in those words. He ground his teeth together, unwilling to be submissive. "Very well. I've been given permission to deal with you as I see fit."</p><p>Jack did not like the sound of that, but he was unable to do much as the collar around his neck was removed and then replaced, only seeming heavier and thicker than before. He said nothing about it as his ankles were cut loose and shackled rather than tied. It wasn't long before his wrists were condemned to the same fate. They were moving him, but where was a mystery to him. He didn't put up a fight. It wasn't worth it while he was still blinded. He wouldn't get far.</p><p>It wasn't until their hands left him completely that Jack began to get worried. Still, he remained neutral as he stood tall, waiting for whatever was to come next. "Name?" Jack cocked his head, confused as to why they thought this was any different than what they'd been doing before until he heard a chuckle beside him. But then he didn't answer. And all he knew was pain.</p><p>Fire shot through his body all too quickly. His chest locked, unable to take in oxygen as his knees buckled. He fell to his knees, unable to hear his own screams. It felt like an eternity of agony before the collar around his neck stopped buzzing. In reality, it had only been a couple of seconds. He was on his side, curled up as though that would stop another attack of the same nature. He took ridged breaths as a hand tightened in his hair, forcing him back up to his knees. "Name?" the person demanded again. When he didn't answer immediately, the collar lit up only quick enough to make Jack gasp in discomfort. It was clear to this man that he was in pain, but he still refused to speak, biting down on his lip as he prepared for the pain to come again. "I have to admit, I'm impressed, young man." Fingers brushed over Jack's hair. He shivered, fighting against the cuffs that held his arms behind him. "I only wish you could've been on the right side of this fight…"</p><p>There were so many things Jack wished to say in that moment, but he didn't, letting his mind drift elsewhere though he wasn't sure it would be any better than here. He closed his eyes beneath the blindfold, sending a silent prayer up to the heavens. He'd done it at least a hundred times since he'd been brought here. There was no way for him to know if anything or anyone could hear him, but he kept saying that prayer, holding his family in his heart and his mind, only wanting them to make it out of this alive.</p><p>This wasn't a fight, this was war. This was a bomb, a hundred years in the making about to explode. This was a revolution growing stronger and angrier by the second.</p><p>The collar around his neck was turned on again, making his body seize up in pain before he was forced back to his feet. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out when that grip in his hair remained. He tasted blood. "All you have to do is answer a few simple questions, and this can all be over for you."</p><p>Jack knew that meant. That meant the promise to spare him was a lie, not that he believed it to begin with. If the young man were being honest with himself, he couldn't say that a quick, painless death hadn't seemed like a decent way out before. Plenty of folks had used it as a means of escape, his own father included. Growing up with the notion that he could be killed for any small infraction was enough for Jack to want to get away. Then there was always something that made him stay.</p><p>Two somethings, to be exact. Their names were Charlie and Tyler.</p><p>"Very well then, boy. I guess we'll just have to do this the hard way."</p><p>If the collar around his neck wasn't the hard way, Jack's heart sunk as he thought about what was coming next. The rags that he wore as clothes were grabbed and torn and cut away with what Jack assumed had to be scissors. He said nothing as he was stripped down to his undergarments. The burns and cuts they'd given him during the days prior were now completely exposed. He clenched his jaw as his arm was grabbed and was frogmarched out of his cell. The chains around his ankles made it difficult to walk, but he didn't care. He fought hard not to care.</p><p>He heard a door open. Suddenly, it was cold. Wind was blowing against his bare skin. He was being led outside.</p><p>There was a voice speaking over the announcement system that ran throughout each sector. Jack still didn't know where he was.</p><p>He didn't pay any mind to the words being spoken. All he heard was "<em>Terrorist</em>." <em>Terrorist</em>. It's what they called him. It's what they called the rebellion. It was almost amusing. These people, these high and mighty, self righteous people would bomb their own lands, gun down their own congregations, and call Jack and his crew the terrorists when they did nothing but try to free these people who were being used and enslaved day in and day out.</p><p>There were people watching him. He could feel it. He could hear them quietly shuffling around him. Still, no one said a word as he was forced forward, up some steps he nearly tripped on, and onto some kind of metal platform where his hands were unlocked from behind him and forced above him. Someone forced his feet apart as far as the chains would allow. He was vulnerable and he knew it.</p><p>The blindfold was viciously ripped off of his face and Jack blinked his vision clear slowly, finding himself standing openly in front of a crowd. Terrified eyes stared up at him. He tried to keep his features neutral, trying to ignore the initial humiliation he felt at being put on display like this. He clenched his teeth together, glancing down at all these people who watched him, fear written across their faces as they recognized him. He may be a ghost to the government, but to these people he was a beacon of hope.</p><p>And he'd been caught.</p><p>
  <em>"Kelly… it doesn't look good…" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jack shook his head. "What do we need?" he asked, scrubbing the tears off of his face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He couldn't recall the last time he'd cried in front of anyone. He wasn't supposed to show them weakness. He was a leader. He was supposed to be the strong one. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Jack, it's not that simple. We're completely out of supplies now. He's not—"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Buttons, I will steal him a goddamn hospital if that's what it takes!" Jack cried, his voice breaking as he tried to take a proper breath. "What does he need?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The woman in front of him sighed. "Go see him. I'll make you a list. But he doesn't have long, so you have to hurry." </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jack clasped Button's shoulder and walked past her, opening the door that had been behind her and slipping in to find a makeshift medical chamber. Laying there on the thin gurney was a frail, young blond boy. Sweat beaded his forehead. Another young man stood above him, dabbing at the pale skin with a damp cloth. There was another young blond, sitting in a chair beside the bed, holding onto the limp hand of the even younger kid who looked from afar to be unconscious. Jack knew better than that. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Stepping in, Jack brushed the caretaker away gently, running a hand over those sweaty blond curls. He could feel the boy trembling beneath his touch. "Shshshshsh… just relax, Tyler. You're gonna be okay…" he promised. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tired blue eyes slid open to meet him. Jack's lips melted into a smile. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. "J'ck…" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Shhhhhhh…" the young man hushed again. "Save your strength, kiddo. Just focus on breathin'... I'm right here… Charlie's here… n' we love you—"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Don' leave, J'ckie…" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Charlie leaned forward in his chair. That's when Jack made the mistake of glancing down at his brother's leg. The one that wasn't there anymore. "Racer, calm down," Charlie coaxed, resting a hand on Tyler's knee. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Charlie?" Race breathed, trying to sit up. Jack easily and gently held him down. "I got shot, Charlie… it hurts…" the boy murmured, breaking Jack's heart in two. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jack looked down at the boy's exposed chest. He could hardly look. So he tore his eyes away fast, leaning down to press a kiss to the delirious boy's head. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there… but I'm gonna fix it—"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Jackie… I don't wanna die…" Those blue eyes were so scared and so desperate that it hurt. "I-I'm not ready…" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jack felt another tear trail down his cheek. He glanced back at Charlie who pressed a kiss to Race's palm before the door was opened and Buttons held out a piece of paper and a black mask. "Mush and Henry and geared up. Hurry." </em>
</p><p><em>Jack nodded towards the caretaker who came back to continue trying to clean the younger boy up. His heart clenched tightly in his chest. "Okay… just hold on, baby brother. I'm comin' back for you…" he promised in a whisper, running a hand over Charlie's hair before he rushed away, taking the mask and the list on his way out</em>.</p><p>"This will be a demonstration of what happens to those withholding information about the rebel alliance!" Jack squinted, forcing his gaze to remain on the sky. The voice was loud, piercing. His head already hurt. "These terrorists are looting, rioting, and murdering our people, and this man!" Jack flinched when his chin was grabbed yet again by this stranger he did not know. He was forced to look down at these people, the ones he lived beneath, only trying to get them food and enough money to survive another night, the ones he was trying to bring life and color and humanity back to. His quick eyes caught everything he needed.</p><p>There were children here. Two little girls standing in front of their caretakers. One little boy out by himself. There was a crowd gathering. There often was when things like this took place, as well as the cameras that were everywhere all the time, ready to pick up on anything. Right now, Jack had no doubt that he was on televisions all over the sectors. Everyone was watching. No one ever spoke up. No one ever took a stand. Jack couldn't blame them, not when they were being stared down by automatic rifles and electric cattle prods.</p><p>"This man knows where the rebels are hiding, yet still he refuses to help our people and our land!"</p><p>Jack caught sight of Henry at the front of the crowd, pushing his way forward. Jack fought to remain emotionless as he locked his gaze in on that young man. He wanted a sign, anything to let him know that they'd gotten the supplies down to Buttons, down to Racer. Henry did not give him anything. Jack held himself together. He took a deep breath through his nose, steadying himself just the man released the grip he had on him. Jack let his gaze drift back towards the sky.</p><p>That's when he felt the whip come down on his back. He supposed he should've known it was coming. Still it managed to catch him off guard. He caught his cry just as it began to leave his lips. Then he bit down hard as three more harsh lashes cut into his skin. Tears pricked at his eyes at the sudden pain but he breathed hard, only grunting as the fifth hit came.</p><p>"Anyone who wishes to spare this man from further punishment by relinquishing the information that he withholds, please speak now!"</p><p>Jack managed a small shake of his head, trying to remain strong even in this situation. He didn't want anyone to take this torture for him. They didn't deserve it.</p><p>No one spoke. So the whip came down again. Five more times Jack bit down on his tongue, tasting blood as he willed himself not to scream. He looked back down to find that Henry was gone. It occurred to Jack that he might not have been there in the first place. Maybe he was just that tired. He wondered if this is how Denton felt in his last moment. Of course, he hadn't been put on display like this for all to see. His death had been quiet and quick because they'd known him. Everyone had known the great Bryan Denton, the man who was working for both sides and only benefitting one. They didn't want anyone else knowing that someone had gotten away with that. Maybe his death had been quick and painless. Jack hoped so. He couldn't bear to think about that man suffering.</p><p>That man had saved his life all those years ago, made him who he is, taken his talents and forbidden knowledge and shown him how to use it to fight.</p><p>His eyes were red rimmed with deep bags beneath them and he knew it. He knew how pathetic he must've looked to the world. He knew that this was the government's way of saying <em>"You tried and you failed"</em> to the thousands of people who were fighting back.</p><p>The whip came down again. Blood trailed down the young man's back. He could hardly see straight. His bare feet were going numb against the cold hard ground but the minute he tried to move, his toes were stepped on. His interrogator was finally in his line of vision. The man smirked at him. "Name?" Jack remained silent, wiping the fear and pain off of his face and scowling at the man before him. His eyes were cruel. His fat face complete with greasy black hair made Jack all the angrier. This man thought he was above him. "Sector?" Staring straight ahead, Jack gripped the chains above him, not ready for the pain that was to come. "Station?"</p><p>The man rounded him and whipped him again. Jack cried out this time, unable to help it. His shoulders were tense and his legs were growing weak. Maybe this would've been easier if they hadn't beaten and starved him before but this was painful and he wanted out.</p><p>After twenty seven lashes, his cries made his captor laugh. Jack looked back down at the crowd, finding that it had somehow grown. The kids were hiding behind the adults, not liking the scene before them. He recognized so many of their faces. So many of those people had been brought to their underground hideout, seeking help and medical attention and a way to hide or escape. He remembered their names. He remembered them all. Ashley. Laura. Benji. Michael. Corey. Sarah. He tried not to look at them. He tried to breathe. That's when his cuffs were brought down to his front. Jack hunched over in pain, wanting so badly to just run away.</p><p>The shock collar sparked to life once again, forcing the young man to the ground as his screams were silenced by the excruciating pain coursing through him. He was on his knees, hunched over, gasping for air, clawing at the collar only to get shocked all over again. All he could see was white. He gasped for air as he stopped himself from fighting, his bound hands pulled in close to his torso as he tried to catch his breath. His captor squatted down one front of him, reaching for the chains before wrenching Jack's arms forward, forcing him into an awkward kind of bow. The young man didn't have the strength to move.</p><p>"This is what becomes of traitors!"</p><p>There was a story Jack had read once. Miss Medda had given it to him, when he was younger, just as she had all the other books and notes of those who had wanted to smuggle knowledge into future generations. It was an old tale, a story of heroism and bravery, one where morality was brought into question. Doing wrong to make things right. Stealing from the rich to give to the poor, that was the motto. Maybe that's not exactly what Jack was doing, but he liked to think he could bear a resemblance to the man that gave his village hope when everything around them seemed completely hopeless. They'd called him a traitor too.</p><p>Taking a shuddering breath, Jack let his forehead rest on the ground. There was no point in trying to lift it when he knew what came next.</p><p>The young man heard the sound of a pistol being pulled. A circular nozzle was pressed against his head. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly as he waited for everything to go black. "New York will wake again," he muttered, his voice breaking as he knew they may be the last words he ever spoke.</p><p>The man above him seemed to freeze at that. "What did you say?" he demanded in a hiss, almost as though he was daring Jack to say it again.</p><p>Jack was never one to back down from a dare. "I said… New York will wake again," he repeated looking up to stare his captor dead in the eye.</p><p>The sector-wide PA system crackled to life, making Jack flinch. He looked around at the speakers that were ominously silent for a moment. That is, until it started.</p><p>
  <em>"Start spreading the news… I'm leaving today…" </em>
</p><p>Jack's heart skipped a beat. He knew this song.</p><p>
  <em>"I want to be a part of it, New York, New York…"</em>
</p><p>His caretaker had once given him something he called an iPod. Medda had explained to him that someone had left it behind in the early days of the Sanctus takeover. Devices like that had long since been forbidden.</p><p>
  <em>"These vagabond shoes are longing to stray…" </em>
</p><p>Jack lifted his head further, glancing back down at the crowd. They were confused and startled, but something about the music, ominous and strange as it was, had calmed them a little.</p><p>
  <em>"Right to the very heart of it, New York, New York…" </em>
</p><p>Humiliation, terror and all, it was hard to keep the curious smile from ghosting his lips. "What's this?!" his interrogator demanded, as though Jack would know.</p><p>As the song continued on, Jack stared down the barrel of the gun that was still pointed at him. And he spoke as clearly as he could, "Long live New York."</p><p>"Long live New York." Jack turned at the voice. It was one of those little girls who was standing in front of her caretaker, a teddy bear tight in her grasp. She was a small thing, her hair braided on both sides of her head, long and wild as it tried to break out of the uniformed style.</p><p>It took only a second for the man above him to turn his weapon into the crowd. So Jack reacted. Shooting up and pushing the weapon into the air as a bullet was fired.</p><p>The man's eyes bore into him dangerously. He fought with one hand for the gun and reached into his pocket with the other. Jack knew what he was going for. He refrained from trying to kick, knowing he'd just sweep his own feet out from beneath him. With his hands above him there wasn't much he could do to stop the man from pressing the button that made him let out a pained cry. His grip wasn't strong enough to keep holding on. The gun hit him in the head as the collar ceased. Jack looked back towards the little girl as he fell back to the ground. She was hiding behind her caretaker now. Jack reached out for her with bound hands.</p><p>He closed his eyes when he heard a shot fired. He didn't want to open them again, fearing the worst. But a delicate hand slipped into his own after a moment. For the first time he noticed how violently he was shivering. He carefully let his eyes slide open to find deep brown ones staring back at him. The little girl squeezed his hand as chaos broke loose.</p><p>
  <em>"I want to wake up in a city that never sleeps and find I'm a number one, top of the list, king of the hill, a number one…" </em>
</p><p>Masked faces rushed through the crowds, disarming the knights that surrounded them with experience and speed. Jack let out a sort of relieved, breathy sob. He curled his fingers around the girl's and then whispered to her, "We can change the whole game… don't let them destroy you…"</p><p>Jack felt a hand grab him and pull him up. He didn't resist, only catching a glimpse of a dead man on the ground as his wrists were grabbed and freed. The collar was unlocked and thrown aside and his ankles unshackled quickly. A mask was shoved into his chest and he took it pulling it on over his head and hurriedly pulling on the clothes that were tossed to him thereafter.</p><p>No one ran off in the same direction. They knew better than that.</p><p>It wasn't long before the entire crowd had scattered, leaving no one behind.</p><p>
  <em>"And if I can make it there I'm gonna make it anywhere! It's up to you, New York, New York, New York!"</em>
</p><p>Jack didn't know how long he'd been running, but he knew he had to take a break. Deep in the woods, he knew it was unlikely anyone would find him, so he slowed down, leaning against a tree as he rasped and panted, feeling as though he might be sick.</p><p>"Wait!" Lashing out, Jack whipped around, shoving the person pursuing him into the closest tree only for the person to raise up his hands in surrender. "Captain! Hey! Jack, it's me!"</p><p>Letting out a sigh of relief, Jack felt himself want to collapse as his grip turned from angry to desperate. "Mush…" he whimpered, trying to take a deep breath. "Please tell me you got the stuff down to them… please tell me he's okay…"</p><p>"Jack, <em>you're</em> not okay. We have ta keep movin'!"</p><p>"Tell me that my brother is alive!" Jack demanded.</p><p>The look in his bloodshot eyes must've been enough for Mush to cave. "Tyler's alive…" he confirmed. "Buttons is doin' everything she can—"</p><p>Jack sucked in a breath, trying to steady himself. "Tell me he's gonna make it… please… h-he's only seventeen, I can't… I-I can't—"</p><p>Taking his arm, Mush supported his leader over his own shoulders. He helped him continue walking as Jack ripped the hood off of his head and tried not to let his mind wander. Nothing good ever came from that. He couldn't count the amount of times he'd pictured the bomb that had claimed Charlie's leg or the riot that had gotten Denton captured. Every time was just a bit more painful than the last. "We're gonna go see him Jack… just stay awake."</p><p>It was all Jack could do. He forced his eyes to stay open as they climbed down into the underground.</p><p>The moment they were in their territory, Jack pulled away from Mush, stumbling and grasping at the walls as his vision blurred. He was on a mission to get back to the medical room. He forced his legs to keep moving. Hands were on him, trying to slow him down, get him to sit or lay on the ground. Jack shoved them away. "T-Tyler… Charlie…" he gasped out. He was dehydrated. He was starving. He was bruised up and beaten and walking hurt, but he had to get to them.</p><p>He pushed the door open, his vision blurring with the dull lights. He caught sight of more than just two people in that room. "Captain! Captain, you can't go in there!"</p><p>"Racer!"</p><p>"Jack! Jackie! I'm here, I'm here…" Jack whimpered at that voice just as his legs gave out. When his vision cleared, he found his brother above him, felt a hand caress his face. "Somebody get him some water!"</p><p>"Charlie?"</p><p>"Yes, Jackie… yeah, I'm right here… we need to get you some help," the younger man rushed out, running a hand over his brother's hair. "Specs! Finch!"</p><p>Jack shook his head. "T-Tyler?" he asked.</p><p>"Shhhhhh Jackie… you know that kid… stubborn as a bull. Just like you," Charlie promised, letting Specs and Finch gently lift Jack from his lap. He felt cool liquid spill down his throat. He sputtered, trying to keep his eyes open as he was placed on a rolling bed and moved throughout their underground neighborhood.</p><p>There were monitors playing something. Televisions down here worked almost the same way they did above ground. They just couldn't be tracked. When he could finally see what was on them, he saw his own face, screwed up in pain as he cried out. "M-make it stop…" he pleaded, his ears going red as he squeezed his eyes shut tight. He tried to get his hands up, trying to rub at his stinging eyes to somehow erase the image.</p><p>"Captain, you did good. Just let us help you," someone asked, gently forcing his wrists back down at his sides, clearly shaken by their leader's behavior.</p><p>The last thing Jack could hear was the sound of his own trembling voice coming over the speakers.</p><p>
  <em>"Long live New York…"</em>
</p><p>Then it was all he could do to let the world fade to black.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let me know what you guys thought!</p><p>As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, fansies!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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